


Devil's Serpent

by httpsruru



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anti-Ethan, Anti-Michael, Blood and Violence, Dark, Dark Humor, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Humor, Italian Mafia, M/M, Multi, Murder, Out of Character, Russian Mafia, brian is a real asshole in this one, daphne is a sweetheart as usual, i swear this is funny in a twisted kind of way, justin trying his best, mafia!au, please don't call my therapist xoxo, the tags make it look darker than it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsruru/pseuds/httpsruru
Summary: "I'm here to protect your ass from getting killed, not anyone else's from getting slaughtered by you," the brunet said with an amused smile dancing across his lips. "Or dispose of corpses, for that matter.""Well, you might as well just help me, now that we're here," the petite man snarled, biting down on his lower lip harshly. "Fuck. How the hell did this happen?"—People often believed they were safer in the light, thinking monsters only came out at night.However, Brian Kinney had learned a long time ago that perhaps that was not the case. Walking through darkness for most of his life, blood sticking to his hands like a perfect glove, he rarely wondered if there was anything else out there for him. He didn't let himself dwell on it, knowing that the darkness was his domain, his kingdom— In the darkness, everything was in his control.The devil on his shoulder blade was only a mere symbol of that.And so when light was about to step into his life, he vowed to himself to avoid it at all costs. No matter what the self-righteous ancient wise men said; light sometimes just didn't belong in the darkness.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. 1 - The Devil

_16 years ago_

The chilly November air filled the Kinney home. Light wind bristled through the entrance that had been left slightly ajar by Jack. In his drunken state it had slipped his mind to lock the door, his only focus being the bottle of whiskey swaying away in his hand. He raised his arm to take a big gulp from the drink that was like aphrodisiac to him, rejoicing the way it burned a trail down to his stomach. He smiled a satisfied, albeit a bit crooked smile as he tripped on the rug and landed on the blood-colored plush couch his wife had insisted on buying. Poor, little Joanie. Had she not been such a naive tiny thing, she would have still been there. She was a good wife, at times, Jack had to give her that, but her mouth had been too big for her own good. Unfortunately, that was ultimately what had driven her to her death. Jack would never admit it out loud, but even he didn’t understand how the doctors had believed she tripped and hit her head on the stairs. That was all in the past though, and all that remained from her were the two annoying brats and the couch. 

Jack Kinney raised the bottle to his lips once more, feeling a chill run down his spine. He scowled, standing up wobbly when he heard a sound coming from the kitchen. He heard the sound of utensils clashing together and something breaking. His heart rate picked up as he sauntered towards the kitchen, almost tripping on his feet again, hearing his blood pumping in his ears. His scowl deepened upon arriving in the room, seeing his son standing amidst of the remainings of one of Joanie’s precious plates made from Chinese porcelain. The boy was trembling with fear, slowly raising his head to look his father in the eyes. He flinched at the man’s gaze, quickly willing his face to get rid of any emotion he might have been showing, holding the eye contact. 

Jack’s face scrunched up in rage as he stepped on the broken porcelain pieces, grabbing his son’s collar, swaying a bit as he pulled him closer to him, ignoring the muffled cries of pain. 

“You decided you just couldn’t shut up tonight, didn’t you, Sonny Boy?” he sneered at him, his breath smelling like vodka, whiskey and whatever else he had been drinking that night, making the scrawny teenager gag in disgust. “God, you’re just like your mother. Stupid and useless. You can’t even fucking hold a plate properly. What are you, a little pussy?” he taunted on, shaking the kid as hard as he could with the way everything swayed in front of his eyes. His head felt light, and he felt like he was dancing on clouds when he saw fear flash in the eyes of his son, momentarily pushing away the anger. 

The brunet boy felt his hands trembled as he started seeing red. He rolled his lips under, letting his father scream at him and shake him like a rag doll. He gripped the single piece of broken porcelain nestled in the front pocket of his worn out jeans, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up his hand. It was definitely worth it, and he had been waiting for far too long. He was sure he was bleeding, but his adrenaline didn’t let that knowledge sink in. His heart was beating almost inhumanly fast, as if it wanted to break out of his rib cage. He heard the blood rushing through his veins, reassuring him in a way that he was not a scared little helpless kid anymore, and partially blocking out the contempt in Jack Kinney’s voice. He refused to think about the man in front of him as his true father, having no remorse of what would be his fate that night. He smirked as the man tumbled over, pushing both of them into the wall near the kitchen counter, deciding that this would be the perfect moment. He sneered, taking a hold of the man’s hand and prying it away from the collar of his shirt. Jack fought back, spouting nonsense about his son being a disrespectful little piece of shit when the teenager had enough. He pushed against his father harder, with more fervor, switching their places with a loud thud and smirking at him. Despite being a few inches shorter, Jack’s drunkenness had actually proved to be helpful for once, seeing as he had no trouble pinning the old fuck against the wall. He felt a rush of satisfaction course through his veins as he recognized the fear in the man’s eyes. 

_Yes, Jackie, this is where it ends_ , he thought warmly, glaring at the scum in front of him.

“What is it, _Pops_?” he drawled mockingly, taking the piece of porcelain out of his pocket and pressing it softly against the man’s exposed neck, tainting the skin there with his own blood.”You’re awfully silent. Cat got your tongue?” he cocked his head sideways a bit, licking his lower lip as he pressed the china down harder. He savored the way the other man’s breathing quickened. 

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, fucker?” he slurred, set on not letting his disgrace of a son see how scared he was for his life. Surely the pansy was just playing around, trying to intimidate him in any way he found it possible. “Put that damn thing down!” he ordered sternly.

“Oh, but father dearest, did you put down the bottle after smashing it once on mother’s head?” he said tauntingly, pressing his weapon deeper with each word he said. He watched mesmerized as little droplets of blood started to appear, bathing in the glorious feeling of hearing the whimpers of his victim. “I didn’t think so. How about Claire, huh? Did you stop after she screamed ‘Daddy please don’t touch me there’? Did you?” he said as he felt his hands starting to tremble at the memories of his little sister’s futile pleas from months ago. She was just a little six-year old girl. He felt his control slip away as more and more blood surfaced and Jack’s breathing became even more erratic. He decided he didn’t want to hear the answer to that one as he let his hand drop. 

He watched as his father let out a relieved sigh before he laughed sinisterly and plunged his weapon deep into the man’s stomach. He grinned sardonically at the way his father screamed in agony, eyes bulging out and spitting blood, directly onto the brunet teenager’s worn out clothes. He didn’t stop there, though.

He withdrew the object before stabbing it into his tormentor’s chest without feeling any remorse. He grinned as he repeated the action multiple times, only being satisfied when he heard the older Kinney breathe out his last breath with a final stab directly to his neck, blood spurting everywhere, coating him and the walls in a pretty burgundy color. Only then did he stop, letting the body drop to the floor. He stepped away calmly, examining the porcelain in his hand that was now covered in blood. He let it fall onto the lifeless form of his father before hastily wiped his hands on his jeans.

He knew he had to move quickly. Surely one of his neighbors had already heard all the screaming and called the police. The last thing the kid needed was the cops to find him all bloody on the murder scene, even though he knew he would not feel any regret when admitting he had been the one who did it. His father had hurt his sister, mother and him for far too long. _The old prick had it coming, really_ , Brian thought as he walked up the stairs in a hurry, shedding his clothes. He carefully poured some bleach into the sink before throwing the textiles in there, letting them soak, knowing he wouldn’t be returning to the house any time soon. He scrubbed off the blood from his hands and face as best as he could before he hastily put on another pair of jeans along with a midnight black t-shirt and a hoodie, before throwing in some essentials into his backpack. He then ran downstairs, his breath knocked out of his lungs upon arriving. 

The man in the dark suit that was standing above his father as if he was examining him, slowly turned around and gave Brian a sardonic, creepy smile that just oozed ‘danger’. The teenager found that he was not afraid though, not after noticing the guy was in no way, shape or form a cop. He was safe from being accused of the murder he had committed and that was all that mattered to him. 

“Good job, kiddo,” the stranger broke the silence at once, stepping over the corpse in disgust and walking closer to the kid. “Your technique could use some polishing, but I can see the potential in you,” he drawled on with a very peculiar accent. Brian shook his head, biting down on his lower lip. All he wanted to do was get out of there and run away as far as his legs could take him. Now that he knew Claire would be safe, he could finally leave behind this scum of a town. 

“Just who the fuck are you?” he sneered bravely, making the man let out a curt, albeit chilling laugh. 

“My name is Damyan, little devil,” he answered, his eyes turning a bit darker with authority. “But you can call me Papa*.”

  
  
  


_*another name for the head of a Russian organized crime group. Can also be called Avtoritet, or Krestniy Otets._


	2. 2 - Good ol' Steve

_ “The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men.”* _

  
  


━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

  
  


Sweat dripping down his back, Brian hit the punching bag repeatedly, feeling his blood rush through his veins with fervor. He could feel the rage building up inside him faster than before, letting out a feral grow as he punched the bag harder, the voices of his nightmare still swimming around his thoughts like deadly poison. The sound of his fragile little sister’s screams and cries echoed through his head painfully loud, like a broken record, never truly leaving him alone, at peace. He thought about her pretty face stained by tears and scrunched up in fear, feeling a pang in his chest. He stopped the punching bag flying towards him with a loud thud, hugging it to his body as he leaned his forehead against it, panting, his chest raising and falling quickly. He shut his eyes tightly, clenching and unclenching his jaw a few times before stepping away from the bag. Raising his hand, he roughly wiped away the sweat from his forehead and snatched up his black T-shirt from the floor making his way towards the stairs leading up to his living room.

The images of a smiling, cheerful, loving tiny girl flashed in front of his eyes as his scowl deepened. He stepped into the shower, turning the water on and let his muscles relax for a moment. As he opened his eyes and looked down, he felt disgust creep up his spine as he remembered that fateful night precisely sixteen years ago, seeing the blood coating his hands still. It was Jack Kinney’s Death-versary, and Brian knew he was supposed to be bathing in the glory of having gotten rid of that scumbag, but the only thing he kept thinking of was his little sister. Claire had just turned twenty-two the previous week and the thought of seeing her kept bugging Brian ever since. He had never searched for his sister, hoping with every fiber of his being that she had been safe her whole life; away from the mess he had tangled himself up in.

Some feared him, others respected him, but the majority of them wanted him dead. Only very few had tried to off him, though, and not without a reason. Brian smirked as he thought back to the most recent attempt of a renowned drug lord at getting him out the way. _ Poor Jimmy _ , he mused, _ it must have hurt to have his guts plastered all over the floor of his home that he shared with his wife and three children. _ Oh, well, Brian supposed it was just collateral damage. He had no fear of death - that being one of the many reasons he was damn good at his job -, however, he thought it would have been pretty pathetic to be taken out by a mere drug lord on his way home. And thus, he had done what he had to do, no apologies or regrets whatsoever. Being a soft pansy did not keep a man alive in the underworld, and Brian had learnt that in the hard way a long time ago.

Stepping out of the shower he wrapped a towel around his waist and sauntered to his room. He was a bit late, so he decided not to ponder over what to wear and threw on a pair of dark slacks matching them with an equally dark Prada shirt, leaving the first two buttons open, his tan skin partially showing. He ruffled his hair a bit and sprayed on some of his cologne. He snatched up his gun from the night desk and twirled it around with his fingers for a few moments. He never let himself dwell on how much blood was sticking to his hands. He was sure he would have gone crazy by now if he had done that, so he figured it was best to treat the people he killed indifferently, as if they were only lifeless objects he had to get out of his way. It was the only possible way to cope with everything and remain sane in the life he led - A life that was only about power, money and destruction. Many people in the underworld thought that killing Brian was the jackpot, a way to be forever respected in the community. He knew word had gotten around about the poor orphan Damyan Kovalevsky had taken in and made an emotionless killing machine. He had been leading this life for sixteen years now, not seeing a way out. 

Not that he wanted to stop, no, not really. He supposed it was still better than rotting away in jail for murdering his father. This way, he had respect and he had people's loyalty — Something that was extremely important in his everyday life. Had the members of the brotherhood not been one hundred percent loyal to him, everything would have gone to shit. No one needed that. 

He snapped out of the depth of his thoughts as he tucked away his best friend, a midnight black Beretta and walked out of the penthouse. He nodded to the guard at the gates and made his way over to the parking lot, unlocking the door of his black beauty, a Mercedes Benz. Not the best type of car in order to blend into the crowd but Brian couldn't help it. He had a thing for massive cars and this one was his dream come true. It helped him with picking up guys too; after all, who would refuse a hot piece of ass who  _ also _ had a Benz truck? Not that Brian needed a car in order to be able to bring home a trick or two a night. He smirked at himself in the rear view mirror, pleased with the sharp hazel glare he had. He rarely smiled anymore, an almost permanent scowl adorning his face most of the time. He was pretty sure it had become his sex appeal by now, and that fact suited him perfectly well. Smiling prettily didn’t make the enemies drop dead to the floor. 

Starting the car, he backed out of his parking spot with ease, taking off towards the office of his boss in a hurry. He made sure not to go over the speed limit though, seeing as the last thing he needed were cops on his ass. He had far too much to hide, and meanwhile he didn't have any problem hiding his more illegal actions, it was not what he wanted to do at eight in the morning on a Monday. Kovalevsky never called him for meetings in the morning, or anytime during daylight for that matter, so he supposed it was something rather serious. He hoped to the God he didn't believe in that Dima, his dumbass of a best friend hadn't somehow gotten himself into trouble. He disregarded that thought just as fast as it came to him, though, remembering that Dima was one hell of an intelligent fucker. He always knew how to get away. Brian supposed it might have been due to his family history; after all, having a mob boss for a father sure had taught the lanky man something besides how to shoot guns. 

He pulled into the parking lot of Kovalevsky Pharmaceuticals with a sigh, rubbing his temple for a few moments before getting out of the car with an annoyed facial expression. He was hoping that his boss's flirty whore of a secretary was not in that day, because he was sure he would commit unnecessary homicide before nine in the morning. He nodded at the receptionist and got into the elevator, pressing the button for the highest floor. His boss liked to feel inaccessible, and while Brian didn't have any problems with that, he was extremely happy that they had a working lift. When he arrived, he groaned at the sight that  _ welcomed _ him. Mary, his boss's secretary was at her desk, throwing him sultry glances filled with lust as always. Brian had to refrain really hard from throwing up what he had eaten for breakfast that morning. It wasn't only that he found vaginas disgusting, he also just really didn't fucking like Mary in particular. She had always had that unnerving vibe to her and a really high-pitched voice that made Brian's ears bleed. He didn't understand how Kovalevsky put up with her for many hours a day. 

"Good morning, Mr. Kinney," she purred as he passed her desk. Brian's lips curled up in a disgusted sneer, nodding at her before hurrying away towards his boss's office. 

He knocked on the hardwood door twice before stepping into the modern, spacious office with a tight-lipped smile. Dima was already there, sitting in one of the chairs opposite to the older Kovalevsky's desk, his signature smirk in place. Brian noticed a new tattoo on his face, another teardrop. Brian returned his best friend's smirk, sitting down on the other chair and straightening his back as he faced their boss. He knew he was late, although judging by the facial expression of the middle aged man, he also knew that he wasn't in as much trouble as he could have been. 

"Next time try waking up to your fucking alarm clock, Borya," he grumbled gruffly. Brian bit his tongue at the nickname, lowering his gaze to the very interesting floor. Damyan Kovalevsky never failed to intimidate anyone, including himself. Despite being well into his fifties, the Russian man looked as impeccable as they come, with his gray-ish hair slicked back precisely. He was sure that his wife, Dana had done his hairstyle that day. He found it kind of endearing how the strong, possessive man often cowered in front of his wife like a kicked puppy, but he supposed that was exactly the reason why their marriage had been working out so well. "Were you out in some man's ass again?" the man shook his head, making Dima snort. Brian's sexual preference hadn't been a secret for many years now, but it still made him uncomfortable whenever someone mentioned it, immediately thinking back to the time when everyone in the organization had found out. Needless to say, it was not a pleasant experience. He knew that his boss, as well as most of the members of the brotherhood were okay-ish with it by now, but he couldn't help remembering the 'months in hell', as he liked to call that time. 

"No, sir," he answered tightly, looking into the eyes of his boss. "I had an early training session, a kind of a celebration, if you will," he finished with a more confident tone, licking his lips. Kovalevsky's gaze became murderous, a pleased smile on his latching itself onto his face. 

"Ah, yes," he mused. "Happy Death-versary," he added, his glare softening a bit. 

"Indeed a happy one," he snorted dismissively, shaking his head gently. 

At first, the anniversary of Jack Kinney's death had brought him satisfaction, a sick pleasant feeling settling into his stomach whenever he thought about the corpse of his father on the floor, helpless, bleeding out to death. However, by now, it had turn into bitterness. He knew it was his own fault that he hadn't seen his sister in more than a decade, although it was for her own good. Brian supposed she was safer anywhere else but here, and so he hadn't initiated contact with her despite Kovalevsky offering to find her numerous times. He just thought his baby sister was better off without all the illegal mess he had gotten himself into. 

"Not to interrupt the joyous event of Jackie's 16th deathday, but didn't you say that whatever you want to talk about is an urgent matter?" Dima interjected, toying with one of his silver rings, twisting it around. 

"Everything I talk about is urgent matter, brat," Kovalevsky deadpanned, taking out a file from the top drawer of his desk and slamming it down in front of the men. "A few days earlier, Taylor called me regarding my debt from twenty years ago," he said gruffly, the distaste clear in his eyes. 

"The Taylors?" Brian's eyebrows shot up. "The Serpents? From that little town in Bumfuckville?" 

"The very ones," Kovalevsky let out a tired sigh as he sat down on his chair behind the mahogany desk. "They did me a favor two decades ago, and it seems that now they want me to return it. I must say that I'm not exactly jumping out of my fucking skin with joy," he added. Brian furrowed his eyebrows. He bit down on his lower lip and tensed in his seat. Something felt very off about the request. He thought it was weird to ask Kovalevsky to return the favor after so much time, but he remained silent, trusting his boss's judgement completely. 

"So, what do we have to do then?" Dima asked, straightening his back and letting go of the ring around his finger, a cold and calculated look clouding his eyes. Brian was sure his best friend hoped their new quest would have to do something with killing someone off.  _ Always the psychotic bitch, _ Brian thought, his lips curling up into an amused smile. 

"Taylor has a son," Kovalevsky began, sliding a file across the table towards them. Brian passed it to Dima, not particularly interested in some child. He was not sure where this all was going, but he had a feeling he wouldn't like it one bit. "Someone wants to off him. They've been getting threatening messages for weeks now, each more graphic than the previous one. They don't know who's doing it but they are afraid it's someone from within their organization—" 

"They want us to find the guy who's sending the letters?" Dima interjected before Brian could, a confused facial expression latched onto his face.

"If you'd let me continue," Damyan said, casting a heated glare towards his son. "As I was saying, someone wants to off the kid. Until they find the fucker and give him the expected treatment, he needs to be protected. That's what he wants us to do. Particularly, you two," he finished in a monotone voice, his poker face not giving anything away. 

"Yeah, fuck no," Brian said right away, throwing the file back onto the desk without even opening it. Before Damyan could retort anything back, Dima shook his head too, looking back at his father with a grim expression on his face. 

"I have to agree with Brian on this one, dad. There is no way you expect us to drop everything here for an indefinite amount of time and go babysit some child in Boringville, Pennsylvania," he said with a disgusted sneer. "We operate your most important groups, we can't just stop doing that." 

"I already found your replacements for the time being," Kovalevsky said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I trust you boys know how things work down here, don't you? So, get to it. You're leaving first thing in the morning, and so help me God I will have your balls if you fuck this up. I'm not kidding," he said sternly, waving a dismissive hand in their direction, giving them their cue to leave. 

Just before they both left the office, Brian's gaze caught Damyan's. A cold feeling crept up his spine; and in that moment he knew their little trip to Pittsburgh wouldn't be a pleasant or short one.

  
  
  
  


━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

  
  
  
  
  


Brian’s lips curled up in a calculative smile as he pulled up in front of the blue-colored house in a run-down neighborhood. He skillfully placed two surgical gloves on his hands and carefully tucked away his knife. He had decided earlier that day, after his boss dropped the bomb of their new quest, that it was the perfect time for collecting some payment from a certain someone that had been indebted to them for approximately one month. Brian figured that the small fortune had been overlooked by them because they had had more important things to focus on, however, he hoped that Steven Johnson wasn't so much of a fool to think he would get off the hook. Brian snorted, knowing that the outcome would be the same whether Steve had the money or not; he was out to kill, not to play meaningless games. They had let him get away with his debt for far too long as it was. 

He got out of the car with ease, straightening his jacket before locking the vehicle and walking up to the door with cold, calculated steps. He had made sure that none of the neighbors were at home that night, eliminating any and all eye witnesses that could have gotten him in trouble had he not done that. Brian did not normally kill without a good reason, he wasn’t a psychopath after all, however, that night he felt his blood boiling in his veins, rage filling every fiber of his body, and he just needed  _ relief _ . He felt degraded, like he had been downgraded from being one of the most important men in the organization to a mere bodyguard of some snobby kid. He understood why it was so important that they did this job, although that didn’t make him feel better about having to hand over his team to someone else for the time being. 

Deciding not to stall anymore, he knocked on the door twice, loudly. He heard rummaging from inside for a few moments before the door was opened by a woman, presumably in her mid-forties. Brian's face became stoic upon noticing all the bruises on the petite woman's face and neck. She had a nasty black eye, accompanied with a busted lip. A deep purple-ish yellow bruise ran along her cheek, making Brian's mind swirl with bits and pieces of remembrance of a past he did not want to think about. His muscles tensed as he saw the way the woman shrank away from of him. He supposed this was Steve's wife. Strangely enough, nothing in the files had indicated that the man was married, which Brian wasn't particularly surprised of seeing the condition she was in. 

"How may I help you?" she asked softly, gripping the side of the door so hard, her knuckles turned white. It made Brian's stomach churn with nausea. 

"I'm looking for Steve," he said in a monotone voice, locking his hands behind his back as he did so. "We have some unsettled business I would like to finish, if possible," he added with a sneer. 

"Now? This late? We were just having dinner," she said, her hand starting to shake. Brian was sure that if he had thought about letting the bastard go before, his plans ultimately changed right in that moment.

"I'm  _ very _ sorry to interrupt the family idyll, but this is far more important. I'm sure you understand," he said, flexing his fingers a bit behind his back. "I don't have a lot of time, so if we could hurry this up, that would be great," he continued, staring into the woman's eyes intently, hopefully making her understand what would happen to dear ol' Steve that night that would ultimately set her free. 

"Yes, of course," she answered after a few moments, licking her lower lip and turning on her heels. "I hope you know what you're doing," she added, looking over her shoulder before disappearing in the hallway. Brian smirked, a satisfied smile then stretching across his face as he noticed Steve appearing. 

Steve Johnson wasn't a big man. His tall, lanky frame almost looked like a skeleton in the bad lighting and Brian found himself sneering in disgust at him. He hated self-righteous pricks and frankly, Steven was exactly that. He felt a wave of satisfaction crash over him when he noticed the fear in the other man's eyes, pleased with himself that he was so intimidating he didn't even really need to do anything special for other people to be afraid of him. He adored being able to hold that much power above others. It made him feel like he was standing at the top of the world, like he was invincible. 

He took in the weary, greenish eyes and the gray hair of his companion, scowling at the bravado he was trying to fake, failing miserably. 

"What do you want from me?" Steven frowned as he stepped outside and closed the door behind himself. Brian smiled a cryptic smile to himself,  _ little ol' Steve's first mistake.  _

"I believe you are not really in a position to be asking me that," he answered, swiftly pulling out his gun and jerking it towards his car resting in the driveway. "Get in, Stevie Wonder. We're going on a little adventure," he cooed sardonically, a feral smile latching itself onto his face. 

"Fuck you, Kinney," Steven retorted back immediately, pulling out a thick wad of cash from his pocket. "Here's your money, you can leave me the fuck alone!" 

"Can I really?" the brunet snorted, pressing the barrel against the shorter man's stomach. "I said get in the fucking car, Johnson. I'm not going to repeat my request again. Do it while I'm telling you nicely," he said, emphasizing his words by pressing in the weapon harder. The man shook in fear as he took some reluctant steps towards the parked vehicle, Brian's gun pressed into his back. The chestnut-haired man licked his lips as Johnson got into his car, certainly aware that they would be driving right into his death. _ Good boy, _ Brian thought in delight, starting the engine and driving off with ease.

  
  
  


━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The lifeless body dropped to the cold ground with a thud. Brian stared into the soulless eyes, pouring the gasoline over the corpse with a deep scowl. He held the plastic container in one of his hands as he lit a match and tossed it onto the body. 

_ See you in Hell, _ he thought with a satisfied smile as he watched the flames engulf  _ good ol' Steve.  _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *from The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe, 1842.


	3. 3 - The Serpent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Serpent and the Devil meet at last.

_ “The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, _

_ Went envying her and me— _

_ Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, _

_ In this kingdom by the sea) _

_ That the wind came out of the cloud by night, _

_ Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.”* _

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

  
  
  


Papers scattered all around the room, the Killer looked at the photos on the wall, his lips curling up into a sardonic smile. He lifted an arm and caressed the outlines of the young man smiling, his hands shaking as he did so. Rage filled every fiber of his body to the brim, a scowl replacing the previous smile. He ripped off the photo from its place, tearing it into tiny little pieces, pleased with his masterpiece. 

"Soon, little Serpent. Soon, you're going to be mine," he said in a silky voice, licking his chapped lips, throwing the torn up picture, letting it fall down onto the papers on the floor.  **"Forever."**

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

  
  
  


_ The nasty metallic smell of blood penetrated the nose of the petite blond man. He scrunched up his face in disgust, his heart rate picking up as he looked around himself, trying to locate where the smell was coming from. He frowned as he noticed that it wasn't him who was bleeding, at least, not in the traditional way. A lump formed in his throat as he noticed his body laying on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding him. His stomach churned with nausea as he saw his best friend kneeling next to him with a panicked facial expression and tears streaming down her face, muttering his name all over again. His form didn't budge though as he laid on the cold ground.  _

He felt his chest tighten and his breath quicken before his eyes shot open. 

Taking in his surroundings, the first thing he noticed was that the room and the bed he was in were both unfamiliar. Noticing the naked body laying next to him, he groaned. His head was pounding, feeling as if it was splitting in two.  _ God, I really have to stop fucking drinking, _ he thought as he slithered out of the comfortable mattress. He cracked his neck and knuckles, the loud popping sounds echoing in the eerily quiet room. Snatching his phone up from the pile of clothes on the floor, he looked at the time and let out a string of well put together curses. He hastily put on his clothes, praying to God that his father wasn't awake already for some fucked up reason. 

Glancing back at the still sleeping form of last night's trick, he wondered for a moment how the guy hadn't woken up to all the noise he made before slipping out of the room with a shrug. 

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

  
  


The Killer smiled sardonically as he emerged from the dark, the streetlights illuminating the blade of his knife. He glanced up at the window of the apartment the blond man just left. His gaze averted to the weapon nestling in his hands, the blood still dripping down onto the ground from it. The pleasure of having taken yet another life filled him to the brim, the deep red liquid coloring his hands as he wiped the knife. He dropped the knife and turned on his heels to walk away towards the opposite direction, his hands itching for more. He longed to hold his lover between his arms, caressing the soft skin on his cheek. He clenched his jaw, opening his car aggressively and sitting in the passenger’s seat, closing the door with a loud thud. He leaned his forehead against the seat and closed his eyes with a big gulp. His partner snorted from beside him as they took off hurriedly, his laugh mocking and cold. The Killer shivered, his hands shaking as he gripped his own thighs and blinked back the tears in his eyes. 

“You’re such a little bitch,” the other man scowled, taking a sharp turn, steering the car onto a muddy road.

“Shut the fuck up,” he retorted immediately, snatching his gun out and pressing it against his partner’s neck as he drove. The vehicle swerved a bit as it continued to rattle down the path. “I can, and will kill you if I hear one more word,” he said coldly, securing the weapon and smiling sardonically as he noticed the pulsing vein on the tan-skinned neck. “That’s what I thought,” he said, licking his lower lip and sneering at the abandoned factory building that they pulled up to, thinking about how it once flourished, only to be left as a run-down place for illegal exchanges.

_ Soon, little Serpent, _ he thought in a scornful way as he pulled the trigger. 

  
  


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Brian got out of the car he had been crammed in for the past six hours, stretching his limbs and cracking his neck with a scowl. He cursed himself for being so stubborn and insisting they take their own cars and just meet at the location Craig Taylor gave them, because his ass hurt and his eyes felt like they were melting out of their sockets. He watched as the black SUV pulled up next to him, already glaring at the music Dima seemed to be playing on the highest fucking volume on Earth. Brian scoffed as his best friend finally switched off that God-awful tune and got out of his vehicle fresh and dandy as ever, ignoring the bloodshot eyes of course. Brian was sure that, like himself, Dima had been out the previous day too, trying to have as much sex as possible. They were both sure that with having to be with the kid all waking hours of the day and having to take turns in watching him each night, they would not be able to satisfy their more primal needs. 

“I’m never doing this again,” the brunet man frowned, unlocking his phone and raising his eyebrows at the time. It was only six in the morning, and they still had half an hour until the official meeting time. “Why the fuck are we so early anyway?” he grumbled, shaking his head as he placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with ease. 

“Because we have to take our child to school, Honey,” Dima smirked, patting Brian’s cheek with a teasing smile, ducking away from the slap of his friend. “Now, now, no need to be so aggressive,  гомосек [gomosék]” he said, leaning against Brian’s Mercedes with a mischievous glint in his eyes.  _ (russian trans.:faggot) _

“Call me a faggot one more time, and I’ll stick my dick up your ass,” the other man shook his head, taking a deep inhale of smoke into his lungs. Letting out a snort, Dima shook his head and squinted his eyes as he looked towards the gates. 

Brian turned his head too, immediately noticing the shadow trying to blend into the faint sunbeam of the rising star, failing miserably. The blond strands of the boy were caressed by the light wind sweeping through the area, making him look beautiful even from afar, without seeing his face. That was not what Brian noticed though, his eyes glued to the backside of the stranger. He licked his lips, smirking at the delicious-looking bubble butt that any other night he would have beneath himself. He cursed inwardly once more, nearly tearing up at the thought of having to be celibate for an indefinite amount of time. He sincerely hoped that Taylor did not plan on housing them in his own home, and if he did, he had better have some decent looking male staff. 

“That’s the kid,” Dima said suddenly, as they watched the slender frame of the boy finally make it to the other side of the gate. “So we got ourselves a rebellious one,” he mused, clicking his tongue and pushing himself away from the side of the car.

“What the fuck do you mean that’s the kid?” Brian turned to him with a sharp glare.  _ Well, what a shame to be deprived of that ass _ , he thought, tongue in cheek as he shook his head. Dima barked out a loud laugh at his best friend’s pained facial expression, thoroughly amused by the brunet’s man antics. Dima saw the lustful gazes he kept shooting in that direction, and he was no fool. He knew his friend wanted the boy, however, he was also aware that it would be very unprofessional of him to fuck their newest client’s son. Not that he would stop him, though. Whatever Brian did with his own life was none of his business and that would stay that way.

“His name is Justin, he’s nineteen and he’s a senior in high school,” Dima added, shrugging his shoulders at the confused look his best friend shot him. “What? I actually took the time to read the file we got of him. It’s not my fault you couldn’t give any less fucks about this,” he said defensively. 

“Yeah, alright,” he grumbled out, massaging his temple. “I’m going to go call Taylor, there is no way I’m standing around here for one more fucking minute,” he said, sauntering off to the side a bit. 

Dima shook his head absentmindedly, already seeing the effects the blond boy had on his companion.  _ You’re so fucked, Kinney, _ he thought with a faint smirk playing across his lips.

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Justin silently closed the door behind him and sat down on his bed, holding his head between his palms. He groaned at the bitch of a headache he was still sporting, and would be sporting probably all day despite taking some painkillers to soothe it. He knew he had to go to school, skipping not being a possibility since his father had been monitoring him a lot stricter lately for some reason. He had no idea why that was happening, nor did he wish to find out, but he would have liked not feeling like he was being followed all the time. 

He sighed, getting up from his comfortable spot and walking over to his closet, taking out his uniform before waltzing into the bathroom tiredly. After a quick shower, he brushed his teeth and hastily got dressed, not even bothering to put on his necktie. God, he fucking hated high school. He loathed the fact that he had to redo his senior year despite his perfect grades. 

His eyes darkened at the memory from two years ago, being hooked up on tubes for weeks to no end in a hospital bed and having to do physiotherapy for a few months afterwards and still ending up with a hand that started shaking uncontrollably if forced for too long. His face scrunched up in a disgusted scowl as he thought of Chris, his supposed aggressor, who had been a son of one of his father’s associates. Chris had disappeared mysteriously just before the trials were supposed to happen. Thinking of what kind of job his father had, Justin’s blood started to boil in vengeance. Only if he hadn’t gotten tangled up in all this illegal shit, I might have my brain and hand intact, he thought bitterly as he snatched up his bag from the floor, ready to go downstairs for some breakfast that would keep him alive for the rest of the day.

_ Soon, father, _ he thought as he slowly walked down the stairs, _ you will have nothing. _

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Brian was already done with the bullshit Craig Taylor had been spouting for the last thirty minutes they had been in his office. The man was a prick, completely unprofessional and really not all that into the idea of keeping his son safe, which rubbed Brian the wrong way, seeing as that was exactly the reason why the man had asked them for their help. Something felt off about the whole quest, like Taylor was keeping something away from them, and Brian knew judging by the tense posture of his best friend that he was not the only one who had picked up on that. Analyzing the animated way the older man was talking, listing off all the things that would be required of them, his eyes narrowed into little slits upon noticing the rapid pulsing of the vein on Taylor’s neck.  _ Just what is he so fucking nervous about?, _ Brian mused, chewing on his bottom lip as he straightened his back.    
  
“I will also need a weekly report of all the places Justin has gone to and the people he has interacted with,” Craig said at the end of his little preach, making Brian’s eyebrows shot up.

“What the fuck are we, private investigators? If your son wants to tell you what he’s doing, by all means, he should, but I will not fucking keep track of the shit he does!” he said angrily, glaring murderously in the direction of Taylor, who scoffed at him in return.

“Your job is to keep him safe. In order to do that, you have to observe the people he comes in contact with and assess them. If you think anyone is suspicious, you report back to me and I will deal with it. Don’t forget gentlemen, that there is a killer on the loose who wants to get rid of my son,” he hissed, a vein almost rupturing on his forehead with the way it was popping out. “Him being alive is my top priority,” he added. The brunet man thought Craig was pathetic, thinking back to a few hours prior when they had seen the kid climb through the gate. He understood why the man needed extra security for his son, judging by the fact that he didn’t even know he snuck out. 

“Okay, fine, fine,” Dima interjected, feeling that Brian might burst. “Obviously, we can’t do anything but accept your terms. However, I will say this - If your kid makes our job hard, so help me God we’ll make his life even harder.  _ Capisce _ ?” he said, cocking an eyebrow in an intimidating manner. A muscle jerked on Taylor’s face, but he gruesomely nodded, thinking that it was only fair. 

“He needs a reality check anyway,” he grumbled, glancing at the clock on the wall. “He’s eating breakfast around this time. I will show you to the kitchen,” he said, getting up from behind his desk and signaling to the men to follow him.

Brian took in their surroundings as they made their way over to the kitchen, scowling at the minimalistic aesthetic the Taylor home had. It was neat, and bright, something Brian would never correlate to an organized crime group leader, but he supposed that wouldn’t be the only surprise that would be awaiting for them at the residence. He reveled in the feeling of the house staff being intimidated by him, smirking at one of the cleaners whose gaze averted from him the moment they locked eyes. He ignored the amused glances Dima kept shooting him, whistling absentmindedly as they walked through most of the house before ending up in a spacious kitchen, a table neatly placed right in the middle of the space.

Justin was sitting on one of the chairs, miserably munching away at a plain slice of toast with an orange juice in front of him. He lifted his head up upon hearing the steps of other people and furrowed his eyebrows confusedly. Brian smirked as he saw lust flash in the gaze of the teenager when he looked at him. 

The effect of God Kinney, he supposed. 

“Aw, he’s harmless,” Dima commented right away, cocking his head to the side. Justin scowled deeply as he recognized the meaning of the teardrop tattoos on the brunet man’s best friend’s face, averting his gaze and drinking his orange juice nonchalantly instead. His interest was irked by the newcomers, but he decided against voicing his question, sure that his father would explain whatever he had come up with this time. 

“Justin,” Taylor began grimly, getting the attention of his son once again. “I would like to introduce you your new bodyguards,” he said bluntly, not beating around the bush. Brian watched with interest as the kid’s facial expression changed from a calm to an angry one in a fraction of a second, the orange juice all forgotten. Dima must have noticed too, because he let out an amused snort, leaning the side of his hip against the kitchen counter, watching the exchange unfold. 

“My new _ what  _ now?” he furrowed his eyebrows, a disgusted facial expression plastered across his face. “Is this still because I took a baseball bat to the head? You really have to get over that one, being that it was all your fault anyway,” he waved his hand dismissively, shaking his head. 

“Could you be serious for just a total of five minutes?” Craig sighed dejectedly. “These are Brian and Dima, they are to be with you at all times, even at school. I already talked to your principal, and I will not accept any rebelling against this, you understand me, Sonny Boy?” he frowned, not noticing the way Brian’s body tensed at the nickname he used for the blond boy.

_ Got it, Sonny Boy? Don’t make me go there and make you understand. _

_ Shut up, will you, Sonny Boy? _

_ Stop being a brat, Sonny Boy, don’t make me take off my belt! _

_ Be glad I’m not near you, Sonny Boy. _

_ I should have forced your mother to abort you, Sonny Boy. _

_ I’m better than other fathers, you could have it way worse, Sonny Boy. _

Brian was snapped out of his thoughts by the velvety voice of the blue-eyed little minx sitting at the table. 

“Crystal clear, daddy dearest,” he said mockingly, dragging his eyes up and down Brian’s body and licking his lips sultrily. “I bet we are going to have _ lots  _ of fun.”

Brian smirked at that statement, unaware that the little Serpent caught the way it hadn’t reached his eyes, intriguing him even more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe, 1849.


	4. 4 - Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am back. I'm so sorry for the late update, but things have been hectic with the new online classes and such, I was a bit overwhelmed. Thank you to whoever still reads this. Not much happens here...Or does it? ;)  
> Enjoy.<3

_ Of the dead  _ _ — dead who lies _

_ All perfum’d there, _

_ With the death upon her eyes, _

_ And the life upon her hair.* _

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The skinny, rather dirty form of the girl trembled as the man kept guiding her through a dark, cold corridor with his hand on the small of her back. She was still queasy from the long car ride that got her to the seemingly abandoned place, and in all honesty she still wasn’t convinced that it had been a good idea. She knew that if she was walking right into the arms of her death, no one would know what happened. It was not as if she had kept in touch with her parents, but the thought of dying alone in a humid, gloomy place scared her to no end. Anxiety bubbled in her stomach, numbing her lungs and arms as she let the man gently swerve her to the right. As soon as they stepped into a room and the sudden light penetrated her vision, she stopped in her tracks and covered her eyes that had narrowed into little slits. She waited until the throbbing ceased before she opened them and audibly gasped at what she saw. Despite her surprise, she also felt a weird sense of calm come over her as she started to feel strength returning to her limbs.

“Where am I?” she whispered quietly, fearing that she would wake up the occupants of the room she was led into. 

“Well, you’re safe here,” he offered with a small smile tugging at his cherry-colored lips, ignoring his own worries that were probably totally unrelated to any that the girl might have had. 

“Why did you take me away from there?” she asked again in a low voice, hugging the hoodie around her closer to her body, “And what’s your name?” she probed, trying to get as much information as possible. 

The foreign man seemed to be lost in his thoughts for a few seconds before he offered her a blinding smile, flat out ignoring her first question. “Just call me Moon, I guess.”

“Okay, Moon,” she answered in a small voice, a timid, albeit very honest smile stretching across her face. “I’m Claire.”

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Justin sat at the kitchen table perplexed, narrowing his eyes into slits as he tried to analyze their new  _ guests. _ He was not sure why his father deemed it necessary to have two body guards with him all day long, but he suspected it wasn't because of the bashing. He didn't know what shit his father had gotten himself tangled up in this time, or how bad it was, but it must not have been pleasant, if only judging by the fact that he needed protection. Walking, talking and  _ hot _ protection. Justin was not sure how he, a gay, and very hormonal teenager boy was supposed to endure all waking hours of the day with his two extremely attractive chaperones. Not with the way they were both seizing him up, trying to figure him out. 

They looked to be about the same height, and built. He wondered whether they were siblings, but as he looked at their faces more, he realized that they couldn't be more different. The one who stood comfortably leaning against the kitchen counter seemed to have tattoos all over his body, judging by the neat, black lines running up his neck. The three little teardrops on his cheekbone caught Justin's attention more than the designs on his neck, though. Justin knew all too well what the meaning of those particular tattoos must be, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Upon seeing the disgust on the youngest man's face, Dima's lips curled up into an amused smirk. 

Justin averted his gaze from the dirty-blond haired man and smiled softly at his partner. The brunet wasn't paying attention to him, too preoccupied with analyzing everything else, so he took his sweet time trying to figure him out. His face had a hardness to it that he couldn't quite place his finger on, it was as if he wore a mask. Certainly one he had been wearing for years, he guessed, because even when their eyes did meet, Justin could see nothing but hollow indifference to everything. 

Brian smirked as the little Serpent tried to psychoanalyze him, extremely sure that the blond boy hadn't been able to succeed. He made sure that his face never gave away any emotion he might feel, perfecting the exquisite art of keeping a poker face at all times. It had certainly helped him when Jack Kinney was kicking the shit out of him, breaking a rib or two in the process. Showing how much it hurt had never done him any good when dealing with his father, so he supposed it would not do him any good in other areas of life, either. Especially considering the life he led. Not that he minded. Being perceived as a heartless prick and a convenient killing machine suited him just fine, if he was being honest. 

Brian stood there, glaring at the petite frame of the blond teenager, trying to figure him out for himself. Justin was particularly unnerving, with that little smug smirk dancing away at his lips and the lustful glances he kept shooting Brian's way. It was obvious that he was trying to coerce Brian into something he, completely out of character, would regret later on, and so he stood his ground and kept glaring at the blond. His new protege didn’t back down though, not even close to it as he held the hazel gaze, much to Brian’s surprise and dismay. It made him even angrier and he decided to tear away his gaze from the intoxicating baby blues and busy himself with assessing the kitchen again, for the upteenth time. 

Dima watched the exchange with a clearly amused grin stretching across his face as he shook his head. He worried that turning down the kid’s unspoken invitation to fuck him would cause Brian a hard time. He was not stupid, he knew what his best friend was up to almost every night on a regular week when they didn’t have much to do, and he trusted that Brian wasn’t dumb, but he knew all too well how tempting something you can’t have could be. He didn’t want the blond kid to mess with Brian’s common sense, but he trusted that his partner in crime could keep a clear head for the timespan they had to play bodyguard for Justin. After that, he couldn’t give two fucks if Brian decided to take the boy to bed, but until the mission was over he hoped for both of their sanities that Brian could keep it in his pants. 

“Are you ready to go?” Dima broke the silence, directing his question at Justin.

“You don’t seriously think you are going to accompany me to school and keep being in my ass all day, do you?” he asked with a horrified expression taking over his face. “That’s fucking mental, and I don’t agree.”

“Oh joy, nobody gives a shit what you think,” Brian interrupted, jerking his finger towards the door. “Get up kid,” he said coldly, the usual scowl now adorning his face once again. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are to order me around?” he said heatedly, getting up and snatching up his bag from the floor. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” he hissed. Brian tried to ignore how his pants tightened upon seeing the anger radiating off the smaller body. _ Oh God, not another kink _ , he thought miserably. After all, he was already thirty years old, how the fuck did he keep discovering kinks of his?

“Of course you are,” he chipped sarcastically. He was seriously contemplating just leaving Dima to do the job alone. He didn’t even understand why Justin got to him like he did, however he couldn’t deny that the blond made his skin crawl with desire, irritation and a touch of something else that he couldn’t recognize, too. They had been there for a total of three hours, tops, and he already felt like he was well on the road that would end in a stress-induced cardiac arrest. God, he had to calm down.

“You have to stop calling me a kid,” Justin rambled on, deciding to ignore the glare Brian was determinedly still shooting his way without even a pause. “I’m nineteen,” he added for good measure as they made their way outside to the parking lot. 

Justin heaved an irritated sigh upon noticing that they certainly wouldn’t be driving to his school in his beloved midnight black BMW x6. He really hated sitting in other people’s cars, however, he supposed the situation could be far worse. He might have thought Brian was infuriating - well, hot, but infuriating nonetheless -, but he had to give a tiny bit of respect to the man upon seeing his car. Growing up a spoiled little brat, with a father who had a company that was worth thousands of millions of dollars, and a WASP for a mother, he supposed he had the background in order to be a snob. Not that he liked flaunting his family’s money, especially not after finding out just where half of said money came from, so he usually tried to keep a low profile. Except the luxurious cars and designer clothes, of course. What self-respecting gay man turned down designer clothes?  _ Exactly. _

Not that his family knew he was not attracted to girls, not really anyway. He suspected his mother had a vague idea that her dear little son liked taking it up the ass, more so after the way the attack from two years ago was perceived as a gay bashing. His father, though, not so much. Not that Justin minded. The blond teenager had made it his mission in the last couple of years to distance himself from his father as much as possible. He knew that Craig - Justin had taken to calling him that in his head -, had been trying to ease him into the  _ family business  _ for quite some time now. Justin, sadly, was not interested in being handed a multi-million dollar company, nor was he interested in organized crime groups. Especially not his father’s.

He thought it was rather pathetic how the man hadn’t realized that his son knew about every little dirty, illegal thing he had ever done in his life. Not only did he know what his father did, but Justin also prided himself in keeping u track of it, too. He could not fathom how someone as feeble as his father was able to pull off so much shit and for such a long time. There was no doubt that despite the woeful appearance of the oldest Taylor man, he liked to be in control and could sometimes be aggressive, too. He had not raised a hand at his son or wife ever in his life, but Justin did not think he wouldn’t, if the opportunity presented itself. Needless to say, the blond boy hated everything his father did under the radar with passion. His lips curled up into a sly smile nonetheless as he gently leaned his head against the window of the passenger seat of the comfortably warm SUV. 

He had figured that Brian and Dima could not be legally hired bodyguards within minutes of meeting the two men. If their bodies that just simply oozed ‘danger’ weren’t a dead giveaway, Dima’s face tattoos sure were. Justin’s stomach suddenly churned with nausea, the thought of his father ordering some kind of stretched-out, sick hit on him weaseling his way into his thoughts and not leaving. He willed the panic that settled into his chest away for a few seconds, trying to think rationally. They surely weren’t men of his father’s, seeing as he kept track of every single one of them; old, or new. Secondly, he knew damn well that if his father wanted him dead, he could do the job himself. Throwing this explanation out of the window, his mind started to race. He had no idea why he needed heightened security, seeing as he hadn’t done anything too illegal lately. Had his father caught on the way he made a little routine of sneaking out every now and then? Surely not, that man was just as dense as a fucking brick wall. Justin snorted to himself, slightly shaking his head.

“Look,” Brian started snidely, glancing at Justin from the corner of his eye as they neared the school to which the blond gave them directions. “Are there any psychological issues you have that we should be aware of? Like fucking schizophrenia or some other shit?” he scowled, taking a sharp turn. 

“Fuck you,” Justin mumbled as he tried melting into the car seat, feeling his cheeks warm up involuntarily. He really had to stop reacting physically to stuff that went through his head only. “I’m not used to having two fucking babysitters in my ass all day,” he snickered.

“I assure you, you’d know if I were in your ass, солнышко[solnyshko]” Brian said mockingly as he slowed down in front of a prestigious-looking building.  _ (russian trans.:honey,sunshine-a nickname one would call one’s boyfriend) _

Justin scowled, raising an eyebrow at the foreign. He had no idea what it meant, or why the brunet man had said it; he could be sure of one thing only. Brian sounded sexy when he didn’t speak English. That fact somehow infuriated Justin even more and he flexed his fingers he started to feel the cramp shooting through his right hand. Dima snickered in the back seat before getting out of the car as it stopped in front of St. James Academy. The facility kind of reminded Dima of the extravagant private schools his father used to roll him and Brian into and an involuntary smirk made its way onto his face. The memories of him and his best friend causing ruckus and rising hell throughout the corridors and laughing in the teachers’ faces never failed to bring a familiar warmth in his chest. 

Brian got out of the vehicle and looked around, taking in their surroundings with a deep frown latched onto his face. All of the students were looking at them curiously and Brian’s eyebrows almost shot up in surprise as he noticed the contempt in a few boys’ eyes as they looked at Justin. Gone was the cocky attitude the teenager had been sporting at home, Brian mused as he took in the form of his new protege. He had to give it to him, though, the kids was an excellent actor. It didn’t go under Brian’s radar how Justin’s whole body was tense and there was a certain darkness to his eyes that almost looked menacing, had he not seen the underlying fear in the icy blue irises. He wondered just what the fuck had been going on at the school for the blond to react that way, and even the possibility of the killer being one of his schoolmates crossed Brian’s mind. He dismissed that thought immediately, though, knowing that a bunch of kids could not have pulled through such a mess for such a long time. Sissy teenager boys were  _ not _ able to go under the radar of a mafia boss.  _ This is fucking ridiculous _ , Brian thought sourly as he finally locked the car and joined Dima on Justin’s other side. By now, a large amount of the crowd in front of the school building had dissolved, meaning that classes were supposed to start soon. Brian quickly went through the instructions given to them by Craig and scowled, remembering that they were supposed to stand outside the door of each classroom Justin had classes in. Brian did not understand how that was being productive, seeing as they were not, by any means protecting a whole class of students, only Justin. What were they supposed to do if the killer  _ was _ actually one of Justin’s classmates? The brunet man knew that the possibility was highly unlikely, however, it was still there and it bothered him to no end. He was a perfectionist, and a control freak, so obviously he hated the fact that Craig hadn’t disclosed more information than he deemed needed. The older man had made it clear to both Brian and Dima that his team was taking care of the stalker who was threatening Justin and that he did not want the two bodyguards getting involved with the situation beyond protecting Justin. Brian was a bit skeptical about Craig’s intentions, because come on, how the fuck were they supposed to protect his son if they didn’t know any of the deeper details? The whole situation was full of red flags for Brian, and he had a hunch that he was not the only one feeling that way. 

“Come on, honey, we have to get you to class,” Dima sing-songed as he wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulder, only to be shrugged off by the teenager boy. Dima snickered, loving to push Justin’s buttons at every chance he got. 

“Get your fucking hands off of me,” he snarled as he rushed in front of the two men, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Justin couldn’t believe that his father had done something like this to him. He knew that they weren’t exactly on the same page about a lot of things going on in their lives, but the blond boy clearly saw through the two men behind him. They were not trained professionals, and he couldn’t help but wonder just where they came from and how they knew his father. He knew that good old Craig had been moving in dangerous circles even before he was born, but he only recently came to that realization. He had been doing some research about the bashing, and found some suspicious and frankly upsetting details about the Hobbs kid that had allegedly wanted to take him out with a baseball bat, albeit unsuccessfully. Justin had known Chris, they had had a few classes together but had never really talked except that one time two weeks before the bashing at a party where they had made out in a spare room. He didn’t think Chris had had any reason to try to kill him, no matter how much evidence was pointing at him, or even the fact that Chris himself had disappeared. 

That did not matter anymore, though. The boy’s body had been found three weeks after his disappearance in an empty parking lot, late at night. At least that was what Craig had told Justin. It did not make the suspicion the younger felt though, and so he was set on finding out the truth behind that horrible night. Now, with the two bodyguards - who may as well be spies for all he knew -, Justin supposed that his little detective work had to be put on hold for a while. He felt panic creep up his spine at the thought of his father wanting to kill him. The chances were slim, but they were still there and Justin figured he might as well prepare for the possibility of Dima and Brian being hitmen hired to off him and maybe dump his body in an empty parking lot. Only time could tell, Justin mused as they made their way over to the Chemistry lab for his first class. The bell had just started ringing when they got in front of the classroom and Justin stopped abruptly before turning around and facing the two older men. 

“You can go now,” he hissed in a low voice. “My father can’t actually monitor whatever the fuck goes on here, so you can just leave and come pick me up after school. I don’t need any fucking babysitters. I’m not even sure why I need extra protection,” he scowled. Brian felt a migraine forming behind his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Not only was Justin notoriously snappy and whiney, he also had no fucking idea why they were even there. Craig was becoming more and more suspicious with all the secrets he held. Brian didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Look, kid,” he sighed annoyedly. “You are going to sit through your classes today, without any fucking further temper tantrums. Then, we will bring you home and you will do whatever the hell it is that you do when you’re bored-”

“I usually go out dancing when I’m bored,” Justin pointed out with a cocky grin, interrupting Brian and enjoying the pulsing vein on the older man’s neck as he became angrier. Damn, what a sight, Justin thought licking his lips.

“You will absolutely not go outside to any clubs, bars, restaurants, I don’t even give a fuck. You want to meet up with someone? That’s cool, but you have to invite them over to the house and Dima and I will be there the whole time,” Brian said as he stared deep into the baby blues of the shorter boy. “Now, move it,” he hissed.

“Who are you, my fucking father?” Justin snarled, immediately.

“I said move it, Justin,” Brian repeated with a deadly calm voice that actually managed to shut Justin up. The teenager huffed and shook his head, but turned around and made his way into the classroom, making sure to slam the door behind his back.

Dima stood silently for a few minutes, just seizing Brian up and finally let out a teasing smile.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you are actually worried,” he smirked. “So, солнышко[solnyshko], huh?” he snickered.

“Shut the fuck up, Dima,” Brian murmured as he went to stand on the right side of the door, next to the awful looking lockers. 

He frowned, willing his heart rate to slow down. He had no idea how Justin managed to get him so riled up, but he had a feeling that the kid was definitely trouble.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

  
  


The Killer watched with a scowl as the three men made their way into the Taylor residence hurriedly. He licked his lips upon recognizing the brunet man, and soon a sinister smile took the place of his earlier frown. He looked down to his lap and picked up the picture placed onto his thighs. He slowly lifted a few fingers and caressed the cheek of the pretty blond haired boy on the photo. 

“I wonder whether daddy would be happy if he knew what you have been doing, Sunshine,” he murmured to himself, the disdain in his voice clear as crystal. “I guess we are going to find out soon, aren’t we?” he mused as he turned his head and stared into the frightened eyes of the little girl on the back seat. 

_ Taylor was going to pay, but first… He wanted to play some more. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A Paean by Edgar Allan Poe, 1831.


End file.
